Promise
by Crystal di Angelo
Summary: Promises, promises. But could they keep them? One shots, mostly focused on Robb and Jon's brotherly relationship, but Arya and Ned would also come in too for some bonding with Jon. Sansa too if I get the right idea for it. Probably Catelyn would come in too for more bonding. Mainly focused on Jon.
1. I Promise That I Won't Die

**Ages in the flashback:**

**Lord Eddard Stark-26**

**Lady Catelyn Tully Stark-25**

**Robb Stark-11**

**Jon Snow-10**

* * *

_It can't be true. It just isn't right._

Jon swung his sword furiously, hacking off a dummy's head.

_The Young Wolf is dead, Jon. I thought that you should know._

He moved on to another dummy, tears burning in his eyes.

_But remember that you have taken the black, and he is no longer your brother. Your brothers are us, the men of the Night's Watch._

Robb _is _his brother. And no vows can change that. How can the Bear suggest otherwise?

_Take care, Snow._

Jon had taken care of himself all right. He was still alive.

_And you, Stark._

But Robb wasn't. It was ironic, really. The bastard survives instead of the trueborn son.

He could still remember Robb's antics when they were little.

_You and I can die at the same time! Then we will be buried together and can find each other more easily!_

Jon had half a mind to do that now, but he had a promise to keep.

_I promise that I won't die until you do, little sister._

But Arya was probably dead too. But he had to know for sure. Jon clung to that last shred of hope. She can't be. Not after Robb.

_You will always be my brother, Snow. Lady mother or not._

Jon suddenly felt weak. A second ago he had been filled with furious rage, anger that Robb had died. Now all that strength had gone out of him all of a sudden. He flung himself out into the cold winds.

_You're going to get better, Jon. Come on, a broken arm won't stop a Stark!_

Jon somehow got to a secluded place which was covered in snow. Snow. He was a Snow, but Robb always considered him as a Stark.

_Don't cry, Jon. It's going to be all right. Father knows the truth, he just does it to appease mother._

Jon needed Robb's comfort more than ever now, but Robb isn't here. Robb was hundreds of miles away, with his body being taunted by the Freys.

_Don't do that, Jon. You know that I will also start crying if you cry._

A tear fell. Jon buried his head in his arms.

_Jon did nothing wrong, mother. How can you stand to make him cry?_

Now Robb was the one making him cry. The silent tears flowed, fast and furious.

* * *

_Lady Catelyn had accused Jon of stealing things from her. Father looked grimly at Jon._

'_Is it true?' _

_Jon was confused. 'What?'_

'_Did you steal anything from my lady wife?'_

'_No! Why would I do that? Because I'm a bastard?'_

'_Precisely.' Lady Catelyn said._

'_Jon, you are to be confined to your chamber until we get the truth.'_

_It's so unfair! Jon wanted to shout, but father dismissed him. Two guards dragged him to his chamber, where Jon lay on his bed, thinking about the unfairness of the whole thing._

_Robb came in about one hour later. 'You should've seen the lights, Jon! They are just so pretty! Father says that we only get to see them once in many years, I can show them to you now, Jon, they haven't disappeared yet-what's wrong?'_

'_Your mother.'_

'_What did she do?'_

'_She made father confine me here for a week! And I didn't steal anything!' Jon burst out. All of a sudden he wanted to cry. He didn't choose this. He didn't want to be a bastard. _

_Robb hugged Jon. 'Don't cry, Jon. It's going to be all right. Father knows the truth, he just does it to appease mother. You will always be my brother, Snow, lady mother or not.'_

_Jon sniffled. _

'_Don't do that, Jon, you know that I will start crying too if you cry.'_

_The two brothers snuggled together, the pretty lights forgotten._

* * *

_A month later, Jon was walking down the corridor in cheerful spirits. He had just beaten Theon at sword fighting, and couldn't wait to tell Robb._

'_Jon did nothing wrong, mother. How can you stand to make him cry?'_

_Curious, Jon crept around the bend in the corridor. Lady Catelyn was talking with Robb, making him gulp, knowing that he himself was the subject of their conversation._

'_That is none of your business, Robb. Stay out of it. This is between me and your father.'_

'_Then why drag Jon into it?'_

'_Jon is the reason this conflict ever happened. Now go to your lessons.'_

* * *

Mormont sighed. Young Snow just had to go and try to freeze himself to death. Now he had a high fever running, he might as well see his brother sooner than intended.

Jon tossed in his sleep, muttering indiscernible words. Mormont only caught, 'Not your fault...please…you promised…'

Mormont hadn't known that the boy would take the news so hard. Mormont never knew that the connection between a bastard and a trueborn son could go that deep.

Jon's direwolf was curled up at the foot of the bed, looking dejected. Except for the occasional nuzzling, Ghost was perfectly still. Mormont wondered whether the wolf was too mourning its lost brother.

Sighing, he wiped away the tear tracks on Jon's face and told Sam to fetch his books and letters.

_This was going to be a long night._

* * *

Jon dragged his feet to the next recruit, asking him the usual questions.

Family. Weapon. Reason.

He knew that Mormont disapproved of the dark shadows under his eyes, but he couldn't help it. Every time he tried to sleep, something would crack and he would spend the whole night crying.

He finished questioning and moved on. Weary eyes scanned the line.

_Six more to go._

By the time he reached the third last one, his mind no longer processed the answers.

However, at the last one, he froze.

Haggard, pale, sunken. Thin, weary, empty.

But it was still Robb.

'How-' he choked out.

Jon didn't hear the answer-he was wrapped in a familiar hug, and he soaked in all of the familiar warmth and the strength of his brother's arms.

'Jon.' Robb breathed. 'What happened to you?'

'Fever and lack of sleep. Nothing compared to you, Stark.'

'Well-'

'Dinner, and a bath. Then sleep. You look like you're ready to drop.'

Robb couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Robb scrutinized Jon, who looked radiant and filled with strength, completely different from the day before. Even the Old Bear looked surprised.

'Well,' he said. 'What could have brought this change on you, young Snow? I recall you almost freezing yourself to death, then starving yourself, then refusing sleep. Could it have anything to do with the recruits, that one in particular?' he jerked a thumb in Robb's direction.

Jon flashed a smile at Robb, before answering, 'Yes.'

Robb was having none of it. 'What do you mean, freezing yourself to death? Starving yourself? Refusing sleep? I told you to take care of yourself, Snow. It doesn't mean that you can do all that just because…'

'…I thought you were dead.' Jon finished quietly. 'I said, "And you, Stark," too. Have you forgotten that?'

Robb winced. He hadn't. That had kept him alive for the past few weeks, riding in a filthy caravan, being treated as nothing more than a criminal. That, and healing from the arrow wounds.

Mormont cleared his throat loudly. 'Well, Snow, back to your duties. And you, make your decision whether you want to be a man of the Night's Watch or reclaim your position.'

Jon stalked away, and Mormont leaned closed and whispered to Robb, 'Please make the right choice, Your Grace. And don't get killed, or Snow would kill himself.'

Robb never knew that Jon could do that. _For him_.

'I won't get killed.'

Another promise.


	2. What Mattered

**Ages:**

**Arya Stark-8 and a half**

**Robb Stark-Just turned 14**

**Jon Snow-13, almost on his 14****th**** name day**

**Catelyn Tully Stark-26, two months away from her 27****th**** name day**

**Eddard Stark-27 and a month**

* * *

ARYA skipped ahead, Jon and Robb trailing behind her. Off on another expedition in the godswood.

Jon never knew how Arya managed to convince Robb to come along, but he suspected blackmail from the disgruntled look on Robb's face.

'You do know that father forbid us from coming here yesterday because of some wildlings.' Robb said.

Jon grinned. 'That gives Arya even more reason to come.'

Robb groaned and resumed stomping after Arya. Jon smirked at him.

'Look, what's this?' Arya bent down and picked a purple flower. She sniffed it. 'Smells nice. Do you think father will like it?'

'Think not.' Robb bent down, inspecting the flower. 'Unless he likes to have a rash on his arms for a few days.'

Arya dropped the flower at once, then resumed walking.

'We are going to get into so much trouble,' Robb muttered, casting a glance at Arya who was looking in bushes, looking for hidden treasure.

'Father won't be pleased, but your lady mother would be worse. But since when you were scared of them?'

It all happened in the blink of an eye. One moment Arya was bending down to look in another bush, and the next she was grabbed by hairy arms that came from behind the bush. Robb froze, and Jon drew his dagger warily, cursing himself for not bringing his sword.

'Now, boy, put down that dagger now, or another dagger would be kissing this girl,' the man growled. The dagger dropped to the ground with a _clang_. Arya was almost crying out of fright. Around them, more men were emerging, surrounding them.

'Oh no, oh no,' Robb whimpered. Jon was numb with fright.

'They would get us a good ransom,' a man who was picking his nails with a dagger said.

'Agreed,' said another man, who bent down to pick up Jon's dagger. 'This is made of good steel, and must have come from a good House. Who are you, children?'

Arya somehow mustered enough courage to spit. 'Arya of House Stark, and you all are just filthy vermin.'

Two men behind Jon and Robb grabbed the boys, and twisted their arms upward viciously. Caught unaware, they let out a cry of pain.

'Do that again, little lady,' the man holding her growled. 'And your dear brothers suffer the consequences. Now, lead us to your precious father, and we get the ransom and leave without a quarrel. Refuse to do it…well, let's say your brothers won't even get to say a word.'

Arya risked a glance at Jon, and Jon nodded slightly.

'Ok then.'

* * *

'I have another dagger in my boot,' Robb whispered to Jon. 'I'm creating a distraction while you grab Arya, and run for help. Don't look back, or they'll catch up with you.'

'But-'

'I'm going to be okay. If not, what were all those years of sword practice for? Just do it, Jon.'

Jon looked around at the burly, threatening men, twenty swords against a dagger.

'…maybe.'

'Good.' Robb said, clapping Jon on the back, oblivious to the others' stares.

'Now,' the leader gave Arya a little shake. 'Don't do any plotting or your pretty sister here will know what it's like to be, ah, mistreated.'

Jon gulped.

They rounded a corner and for a few seconds a third of the men were out of sight.

'Now.'

Robb slid the dagger out in a smooth motion while Jon dove to the front of the procession. The man, caught off guard, let go of Arya. Robb slashed and parried, while Jon threw stones to the opposite direction of where he was running. Grabbing Arya, he ran.

When he reached the bridge, he stopped.

'Little sister,' Jon said, squatting down so he was eye level with Arya. 'Go and run for help. I'm going to help Robb.'

'But-'

Jon gave her a gentle push. 'Now.'

Arya swallowed and nodded. Jon tore back through the woods.

He skidded to a stop just in time to avoid an astray arrow. Robb was pinned to the ground, still fighting desperately.

Jon got their attention by throwing a stone and knocking a man out cold.

They turned, and fired an arrow at him. The arrow seemed to go in slow motion, slow enough for Jon to avoid it. It still scraped off skin from his arm, though.

'Don't move,' the leader snarled. He had subdued Robb and was holding him at sword point. 'Or your brother dies. Now, come over slowly, with your hands up.'

Jon held up his hands in surrender and inched closer.

'Now,' the leader snarled. 'Where's your sister?'

Robb shook his head the best he could with a knife at his throat.

Jon remained silent.

'Tell me!' he roared. 'I'm not a man of patience!'

Robb shook his head again.

'Well, in that case, I'll have to-'

The knife was brought down on Robb's throat, and Jon instinctively lurched forward, shoving Robb out of the way and taking the blow on his back.

'Jon!' Robb was horrified.

Jon could feel pain arcing through his body. He whimpered, not caring about dignity anymore. He couldn't think, couldn't _breathe_, couldn't even do anything.

He struggled to take in breaths, noise rushing by him, carrying no meaning. Everything was a blur. Jon tried to claw his way out of there, but pain lanced through him. He couldn't even muster the strength to scream.

'No, no, no…' a familiar voice. Jon struggled to remember who it was, something that started with a 'b'?

Brother.

'Robb…' he whispered weakly.

'Hang on there, Arya's coming, you shouldn't have done that! I told you to run, damn it!' Despite all the scoldings, Robb's tone was worried, desperate.

More voices, and Robb was pulled from his side. He reached out, wanting something-anything that was familiar to him, but someone kicked him, and he moaned.

Then the clip-clop of hooves was heard, and the next thing he knew Robb was back again, trying to keep them from being trampled.

He heard the sound of Arya yelling his name, saw father's concerned face before passing out.

* * *

Why did Jon have to take that damned dagger for him? Why did Jon have to come back? Why can't Jon just go with Arya?

Robb buried his head in father's embrace. Ned said nothing, just pulled Robb closer to him, as if that particular incident had reminded him of the many ways his son could die.

Arya was uttering a string of vehement curses, but no one stopped her.

'Why couldn't he just go along with me? Why? _Why? _Why did he just have to play the hero?'

Sansa held no great feelings for Jon, but she was weeping too.

'Arya _always _ruins everything! None of this would have happened if she just hadn't gone! Robb almost _died!_'

Arya whirled on her. 'I don't want that either! I wanted none of that! I would turn back time if I had to, but I CAN'T!' Arya fled the scene, sobbing. There was no one to go after her. Usually Jon would go, and calm her down, bring her back and make her mumble an apology. But Jon wasn't here.

Seconds went by, minutes, then finally hours. Finally Maester Luwin came out, worry etched all over his face.

'Young Snow seems to be able to pull it through for once, but do not underestimate the weapon. It went deeper than I thought, damaging a lot of tissue. He fell into a coma after I extracted the knife. Do not expect his abilities to be as before. The rest I cannot say, until Snow wakes up and I can give him a more throughout examination. _If he wakes up,_' he added under his breath, but Robb heard.

_Let Jon live. Let Jon live._

'Can we see him?'

The maester frowned. 'Not when he is teetering on the edge of-anyway, the lord and lady may see him if they wish to, but children cannot enter until Jon's better.'

Robb thought that it was highly unlikely that his lady mother would visit Jon out of her own will. But when he looked at her, Catelyn looked strangely deep in thought.

'Go to sleep, Robb.' Ned finally pried Robb from him. 'Or you can pray in the direction of the godswood, or you can go to the Sept. Or you can find Arya.'

Truth to be told, Robb was ready to drop, but he wanted to be assured that Jon wasn't dead, that Jon was still breathing, still alive.

But he looked at father's stern eyes, and nodded ever so slightly. The same nod Jon had gave Arya three hours before. Had it only been three hours? It had seemed centuries.

But what mattered was Jon had not died just because of him.

* * *

'I hated him,' Catelyn murmured, voice hollow. Ned's hand rested on Jon's forehead, which was burning. 'I hated him for who he was, for what he represented, for what he meant to our marriage. And yet when I see him hurt and helpless like this, I just can't bring myself to hate him.'

'It's your motherly instincts, Cat. Actually-' Ned stopped himself.

_Promise me, Ned. Promise that he will be safe. Please._

'What?'

'Nothing.'

The truth was buried once more.

Jon stirred under his blankets, and Ned ruffled his hair.

'Jon,' he called, not sure whether Jon could hear him, but he spoke anyway. 'I've always been proud of you, as proud as I am of Robb, Arya, Bran, Sansa and Rickon.' He could feel Catelyn's eyes on his back, but at this moment he did not care. 'You were my last link to _her_. I miss your mother more than anything, but I just can't bring myself to tell you the truth about your mother. It's too terrible, too bloody, and you would get killed if you let it slip. I can't trust anyone with it, but I hope that I could at least let you know your birth before you died. So live, please, so that you could hear the truth. Damn it, why didn't I tell you when I had the chance?'

Tears were starting to fall, and he wiped them away.

Catelyn was silent. And she remained silent while she guided him out of the chamber and into the one they shared.

* * *

'_Lyanna, come on, you can do it!' the midwife, Wylla, urged. _

_Lyanna's screams filled the air while Ned gripped her hand all the tighter. _

'_Push, you're almost there. You're a brave one, milady. I'm sure your child would be as brave and strong as you. He's beautiful, just look at his dark curls! When you're done, we can find out what color his eyes would be. What color would you want his eyes to be?'_

_Lyanna didn't answer, just squeezed her eyes shut and resumed fighting._

_A woman's war on the bed could be bloodier than a man's war. But it's also beautiful._

_Wylla held the babe up, the light of the dawn catching on his dark curls._

'_Jon,' Lyanna breathed._

_The midwife slapped Jon's backside, and his eyes flew open, but strangely enough, he did not cry._

'_His eyes,' Lyanna said. 'They're grey.'_

_Ned could not tell whether she was disappointed or elated. But when Lyanna clutched Jon close to her chest, Ned supposed that it didn't matter._

'_He's a queer little babe, that one,' Wylla remarked. 'Made not a sound.'_

_Ned watched the mother and son, remembering his own lady wife, Catelyn. She was with child when he had left, and he supposed that she had already brought the child into the world. Ned couldn't wait to get Lyanna and the babe back to Winterfell. Jon would make a fine playmate, and they would be home._

_Wylla interrupted his musings. 'Something's not right here. The bleeding should have stopped by now, but…My lord, you should get a maester.'_

_Ned's eyes moved to a pale Lyanna, and he leapt up at once. Jon was stirring restlessly in her grasp, as if he somehow knew that his mother was weakening._

_Ned looked around frantically. His maester was back at Winterfell, and he didn't know where to find one here._

'_Ned, is Rhaegar…alive?' Lyanna asked, voice soft._

_It wrenched Ned's heart to break the news to her, especially at this moment._

'_No, Lya, Robert won.' _

_Lyanna became alert all of a sudden. 'Then Jon would be in danger! You know how he despises Targaryens! And I would be powerless to protect my son!' Lyanna held Jon closer to her, overtook by motherly instinct._

'_Lyanna, I can't do anything either.'_

'_You can! Take him back to Winterfell, claim him as anything but a Targaryen. Promise me, Ned. Promise that he will be safe. Please.' Lyanna was begging. Lyanna never begged. How could he refuse his baby sister?_

'_I promise.'_

_Lyanna let her eyes slide shut, a last smile on her face, Jon still clutched tightly to her chest. Wylla covered her mouth, tears spilling from her eyes. Jon started to cry softly, the first sound he made since he was born. Ned's mouth was set in a grim, hard line, numb from the pain of losing his brother, then now his sister._

_Thank the gods that no war could touch Benjen, who was safely at the Wall._

_Minutes later Ned was saddling his horse, cradling the last link to Lyanna-a precious, fragile bundle in his arms. He'd settled things with Wylla, who agreed to become Jon's milk nurse for the time being, and pretend to be his mother. Howland Reed watched the proceedings with hard eyes._

_Winter is coming._

Ned sat bolt upright in his bed, panting. Catelyn rolled over and asked in a sleepy voice, 'What's wrong, dear? A nightmare?'

Ned shook his head. 'No. Nothing. Go back to sleep.'

* * *

Days passed, and Jon did not awake. His fever was receding, but he showed no signs of waking up. Despite her hatred for the boy, Catelyn was also starting to get worried. Arya was already beginning to refuse food, and Robb was at Jon's bedside day and night. Sansa's needlework was diminishing in quality, and Bran didn't even climb anymore, just sat at the window and looking at the godswood absentmindly. Baby Rickon was always crying, and Ned seemed worried all day.

Nobody was unaffected by this incident. Even Theon Greyjoy had lost some of his spirit. He just spent the day whacking at dummies halfheartedly. Once, Catelyn heard him reprimand one of the dummies saying, 'You just _had _to get yourself hurt, don't you?'

Catelyn wondered how a mere bastard could have this effect on so many people.

* * *

The five Stark children seemed to have reached a silent agreement two weeks after the incident. Everyday a different child would take the position beside Jon's bed, with different things to do. Robb would hold Jon's hand in silence, Sansa singing songs for Jon, Arya yelling for him to wake up and call her 'little sister,', Bran talking to him, telling him about the things that happened that day while little Rickon would just hug Jon tightly and spend the rest of the day like that.

Maester Luwin was flabbergasted by Jon's never-ending coma. The wound was healing, and Jon had no fever, and as far as he could tell, Jon didn't sustain any other injuries.

And so Jon remained in his coma, until the day Robb couldn't take it anymore and started to cry into his hands, one still tightly gripping Jon's.

'Robb…'

Robb looked up, startled, only to see Jon smiling at him.

'I had the queerest dream until I heard you crying. Then I just…woke. How long had it been?' Jon asked, struggling to sit up. Robb propped Jon up on a couple of pillows.

'What was it about?'

Jon frowned, trying to remember. 'There were four wolves, three male and one female. One male died, and the other just left. A dragon sang a song, which made the she-wolf cry. And then…I just can't remember.'

Robb couldn't make head or tail of the dream either, but all that mattered now was Jon wasn't dead, he was alive, could talk, could think, and that was enough.

* * *

To say that Jon was surprised by Lady Catelyn visiting him was an understatement. Jon practically shrunk back into the pillows as she approached.

Catelyn sat herself on the edge of the bed, wondering what to say. She wanted to thank him for saving her child's life, but the words just never seemed to come.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. 'Well…I'd…_like_,' Catelyn forced the word out. 'To…_thank_…you for saving Robb's…life.'

Catelyn knew that her thanks didn't sound sincere enough from the look on Jon's face. But it would have to do, and would be the most he would get from her now.

Catelyn rose and left the room, feeling the eyes that looked queerly familiar to her on her back all the way.

* * *

**Longest. Chapter. Ever. I think I just pushed my limits to write this in two days. **

**Review and give suggestions for more one-shots!**


	3. Hand of the King in the North

'Have you made your decision? You are about to say your vows, you do know that very well.' Mormont reminded Robb.

Robb groaned. He didn't want to return to the game of thrones, a battle of both blood and wits, but…

_There must always be a Stark in Winterfell._

But he didn't want to leave Jon.

Of course, as the King in the North, he could just legitimize Jon and release him from his vows, but he wasn't sure whether that was what Jon wanted. Seven hells, he wasn't even sure what _he _himself wanted.

But time's running short, and he needed to make his choice fast.

'You know, you could always ask for Jon's opinion,' Mormont said.

_That's it, _Robb decided. _I'm asking Jon._

* * *

They sat in the very spot where, according to Mormont, Jon had almost frozen himself to death. Jon grabbed a fistful of snow, which matched his pale skin. 'I really don't know, Robb. You're asking a bastard to make a lifelong decision for a _king_?'

Robb growled. 'You're that king's brother, don't think of yourself like that!'

'Well, I suppose that I would like to go…but not as a Stark.'

Robb was surprised. 'Sorry?'

'I would like to keep to Snow for a while.'

Robb stared. He didn't understand why anyone would prefer to be a bastard.

'It's just…I can't get used to it. And I won't fit in.'

'All right. But when you get tired of people calling you 'Snow,', come to me.'

But it turned out that Jon didn't need to.

* * *

They rode south the next day.

Before their ride, Mormont handed a package to Robb. Robb opened it, and-

'It's-it's my crown!' Robb gasped. 'How did you come by this?'

'Young Snow had it made in the forge. You needed a crown to release him from his vows, after all.'

Robb put it on, the familiar weight of it bearing down on him.

'Being a king is hard,' Mormont sympathized. 'Are you sure of it?'

'I am.' _Because Jon is._

'Farewell, and I wish that you have a safe journey.' Mormont bowed, and Jon came in.

'Ready?'

'More than ready.' Robb smiled at his half-brother.

'Let's go.' Jon climbed onto his horse. 'Your Grace.'

Robb scowled and Jon laughed.

* * *

To say that Winterfell was a ruin would be nothing compared to the horror that registered in the brothers' hearts.

'What happened?' Robb gasped.

Jon was too stunned to answer. He walked his horse around the courtyard in a daze. The sword fighting yard-charred and burned. The stables-reduced to ash. The castle walls-black and crumbling.

This wasn't the Winterfell they knew and called home. This wasn't the Winterfell they expected.

Robb dismounted, along with Jon and they explored the castle, as if seeing it for the first time.

'Jon,' Robb called, voice sounding strangely hollow. The sound echoed on the empty walls of Winterfell. 'I think we should go.'

Jon nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the ruin they had once called home. 'Rebuild it later. After-you know, finding Arya and Sansa. Those heads on spikes outside-they say that they are Bran and Rickon's.'

The ride away seemed more subdued than ever.

* * *

'Your Grace.' His people fell to their knees before him. 'My King.'

Robb bent, kissed their foreheads, stood and said, 'I have an announcement to make to you all.'

They listened, attentive. Most of them had returned once they heard that Robb was still alive, but a few had needed to see Robb for themselves before returning.

'I, Robb Stark, King in the North, now name Jon Snow as my heir and Hand, and release him from his oaths to the Wall.'

Silence.

Then everyone applauded, while Jon just stood there, dumbstruck. Hand of the King? He didn't expect _that_ for sure. Robb couldn't help but smirk at the expression on Jon's face. And then it broadened into a smile when he spotted Howland Reed in the crowd, glowing with happiness.

'Jon claimed a place fit for him at last,' Reed said, bowing down before Robb. 'Your Grace.'

'What do you mean? And rise.' Robb was curious. Few people said that about a bastard.

Howland Reed rose, eyes shining. 'Are you sure you want to hear the truth, Your Grace? I fear that few will take it nicely.'

Robb was growing curious. 'Tell me.'

'But first, swear to the Old Gods and New that no blood will be shed on this.'

Robb hesitated, thinking. Finally, he said, 'I swear.'

'Well-' he began, but then an arrow pierced him from behind. He crumpled to the ground, while the crowd dissolved into chaos. Jon drew his sword, covering Robb, who knelt down amidst all the chaos to hear the man's last words.

'Jon Snow,' he choked. 'Ice and fire…blood of the dragons…Lyanna…Tower of Joy…Jon Snow…'

And he was still, the message he meant to convey unfinished and punctured by gasps for breath.

Robb rose, eyes burning with fury. The message had something to do with Jon and his aunt, and dragons too, and yet an unknown assailant had prevented his brother from getting to know the truth about his birth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black cloak whisk around a corner.

'Catch him!' Robb shouted, his voice lordly and commanding.

Minutes later, the crossbow and the man was brought before him. The man raised his head, and stared at Robb intensely.

'The king returns.' He said.

Robb ignored his remark, and asked, 'Why did you want to kill him?'

The man remained silent for a long time. When Robb was on the brink of his patience, he finally spoke. 'He held vital information to the possession of the Iron Throne, and we couldn't risk that.'

'Who's we?'

'It is not my place to tell you.'

'The whips, Jon.'

Only then did the man speak. 'The ones who want to prevent the Iron Throne from passing to Targaryens.'

Robb snorted. 'The Beggar King is dead, and the girl cannot claim the Iron Throne because, well, she is a girl. There is no Targaryen that can claim the throne.'

'There is. But my job is to prevent you from learning who.'

Frustrated, Robb ordered for the man to be thrown into the dungeons, then excused himself and requested a private meeting with Jon in his private tent.

* * *

'Robb, I still don't understand why you made such a fuss.' Jon crossed his arms. 'You're supposed to execute him, you know.'

Robb felt like banging his head. 'I questioned him and kept him alive for you!' _Ungrateful brat, _he might have added, but rationalism kept him from doing that.

Jon frowned. 'For me?'

_Yes, you fool. For you. _Instead he said, 'He knew about your family. Howland Reed did too, until he was killed.'

Jon's foot was tapping on the floor. 'It doesn't matter.'

_It does matter to you, you pretending coward. _Robb was growing impatient. 'It does matter. Or would you like me to execute him now?'

Jon did not look straight at him. 'You may if it please you, _Your Grace_.'

The words stung. 'Look, Jon-'

Jon raised his voice, which was unusual, since he usually was very quiet. 'Your duty is to the realm now, _Your Grace, _not to me, your humble Hand.'

Robb's temper was rising quickly. He had very little sleep the past few nights, and now Jon was here picking at him like that…

'Fine. Pack your things. Go wherever you want, just away from me. I dismiss you from your duties as a Hand. Go back to the Wall, if you like. You could freeze your arse off there and maybe your hands too.'

'Robb.'

'Go.' Robb turned away, so he would not have to see the tears building in Jon's eyes.

'If it please you, _Your Grace_.' The words were said icily. 'You are not the brother I knew before, _Your Grace_.'

And with that, Jon stormed out of the tent.

Robb sat down on the floor abruptly.

_What have I done?_

The pressure of being king was greater than he thought.

* * *

_Well, I think I am the first Hand in history to have such a short time of service, _Jon thought bitterly, saddling his horse. It seemed that his temper and Robb's were unusually short these days.

_Who's my mother, father?_

Jon remembered asking.

_Father smiled sadly. 'I promise that I'll tell you all about her someday. Mayhaps when you reach your sixteenth name day?'_

'_Promise?'_

_Father had a faraway look in his eyes by then. 'I promise, Jon.'_

Now he will never find out.

* * *

Robb ran through the camp, looking for Jon. That assailant had finally told a story, after plenty of, ahem, persuasion from whips, and he felt that Jon deserved to know about it.

'Have you seen my Hand?' he asked a soldier.

'Did you see the Hand?' he asked a camp follower.

He'd dismissed Jon, but in a way Jon was still the Hand of the King in the North in his heart.

The answers he got was always 'no, Your Grace.'

_Where did you get yourself to, Jon? Or should I say Jon Targaryen?_

**Sorry but I just can't help inserting my theories into all of my stories. And yes, there's going to be a sequel to this.  
**

**Anyway, please review!**


	4. Who are you, Jon?

**I'm so sorry for the late update! I was banned from the computer for a whole freaking week, then my notes on this story were confisticated by my teacher. I only just got them back. On with the story and thanks again to Veridissima and Siouxfan.**

**This is the sequel to the last chapter, and very likely the last one based on it.**

* * *

_Jon Snow. Jon Stark. Jon Targaryen._

Jon was confused.

_Who are you, Jon?_

He was a Snow. Then almost legitimized by Robb, to be a Stark. Then the truth came out.

_Jon Snow._

Truth to be told, he actually missed his old identity. When he was Jon Snow, he could play with Robb; look around the familiar walls of Winterfell.

_Jon Stark._

It sounds queer somehow, after being called a bastard for the early parts of his life. Lady Catelyn would not like that.

_Jon Targaryen._

That was the identity he was feared and respected the most for. _The child of ice and fire, _the common folk called him. _Azor Azhai, _the red priests called him. _The dragon prince, _the lords and ladies called him.

But he didn't know who he was. And it frustrated him. He didn't know who he _wanted _to be.

* * *

To Robb, he'd always be Jon Snow, the boy who played with him, sparred with him and laughed with him.

Robb didn't need to legitimize Jon in the first place. Jon never needed to be legitimized, as a trueborn son, the product of a secret marriage between Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Robb missed Jon Snow. The new Jon standing in front of him was older, sadder, and tired. He wanted the young and happy Jon that was happy and carefree back.

'Your Grace.' Jon sank into a chair with a tired sigh, shoulders drooping. 'It has been a cold walk here.'

Robb raised his eyebrows. 'You have been in the godswood again.'

'So what if I am? Someone needs to pray to them once in a while for you.'

'Oh.'

They sat in comfortable silence, Robb watching the flames crackle in its hearth while Jon fiddled with some loose strings that came from who-knows-where. They basked in the warmth, trying to forget the dragons that were connected to it.

Finally, Robb spoke. 'Jon…'

'Yes?' Jon turned his grey, northern eyes on him. He was still Robb's brother, no matter what they say about blood and fire.

Robb blurted out. 'You're always Jon Snow to me, no matter what they say. You're still the same, aren't you?' he added anxiously. He cursed himself for sounding like this, like a child instead of a king, but Jon didn't seem to mind.

'Jon Snow…' he murmured, and a ghost of his old smile passed on his face. Then it turned into a genuine grin and he hugged Robb. 'Not much, not much at all.'

* * *

Arya swung her legs, sitting on the window sill, gazing down at the courtyard. She could make out two people walking together, obviously arguing about something.

_Who'd be out as this time of the night? _She wondered, swinging her legs off the sill and creeping down the stairs. They reached the doors, still arguing, and Arya strained to pick up what they said. You should know everything you can in the game of thrones. It's the only way to stay alive.

'…blood of the dragon I may be, but-'

'Your allegiance lies here, Jon _Targaryen._ I thought that we have settled this before. Mayhaps I burn the godswood that leads you to long for the old days?'

'No, my lady.' Jon said. They were walking closer now. Arya recognized the second voice to be of the queen's. Arya hurriedly ducked into a room nearby, pressing her ear to the door.

'Then what do you mean by requesting to return to the north, aka Winterfell, and rebuild it? Your place is _here._ Leave the reconstructing of your false home to the King of the North. He departs the next week, after all.'

Jon was about to reply when the door Arya was leaning on creaked. Arya cursed herself. In all her years as a Faceless Man, or Woman, she had never made such a mistake. A few months out of practice and this is what happened. Oh well.

They stopped, and Arya decided that she would just face it instead of hiding. She stepped out from behind the door.

'Hey, little sister,' Jon mussed her hair, not looking upset at all while Queen Daenerys looked at her sternly. 'I hoped that your lord father taught you that it is impolite to eavesdrop.'

Arya swelled, but Jon answered for her. 'He did, but he didn't tell her that sometimes it _is _okay to eavesdrop.'

Arya beamed while Queen Daenerys scowled darkly.

'I am not to be trifled with, Jon Targaryen, Dragon Prince you may be.' She warned.

Jon's grin turned into a scowl. 'I grew up a Snow, commanded as a Snow, and Snow I shall remain.' He declared. Arya looked at him in disbelief.

Jon was giving up his trueborn title of Targaryen, and refusing the throne?

Queen Daenerys' face was unreadable, but finally she spoke.

'A week. I'll give you a week to consider. If you wish, the King in the North and his family will return after you made your decision.'

And she left, leaving Jon standing with Arya.

Jon cleared his throat. 'I think I better be off then.' He winked at Arya.

'You know,' Arya said. It just popped into her head suddenly. 'You're always my big brother, no matter what they call you. Just thought that you should know.'

Jon gazed at her, and Arya lowered her head. Only to find herself being hugged by Jon mere seconds later.

'I would keep that in mind, little sister.' Jon smiled, the same smile he always gave her. 'Thanks.'

* * *

Bran sat on the floor, trying to figure out the puzzle Robb had given him a few days ago, written on a piece of parchment.

_When does 1 plus 1 equal 5?_

Bran frowned, turning the parchment this way and that. No special shapes, no tricks, and no invisible ink as far as he could tell. Nothing.

Bran sighed, bored out of his mind. He stared longingly at the rooftops outside. If only…

'Don't even think of it, Bran. Robb will have your head.'

Bran spun, and nearly toppled off his chair. Warm hands held him steady, preventing him from further humiliation.

'Jon!' he exclaimed, trying to sit up. 'Don't scare me like that!'

Jon chuckled. 'Um, sorry?'

Bran scowled, then quickly succumbed into laughter. Jon followed a moment later.

Jon was the same all right.

'Say, could you help me with this?' Bran shoved the puzzle under Jon's nose.

Jon frowned at it for a moment, before finally saying, 'When Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn get together.'

'Huh? Wait, I get it.'

It was so simple, but Bran never thought of it. One man and one woman made 5 children together.

But wait. Why wasn't Jon included? Sure, Jon was their cousin, but Bran still thought of him as his brother. Plus the Stark coloring and all, it was an easy mistake to make.

Of course, it was perfectly logical to leave Jon out, but in his heart…

Jon Targaryen was still Jon Snow, his big brother.

'…Jon?' he asked tentatively. Jon was pulled out of his thoughts.

'I think I should make this 6 instead of 5.' He pointed at the parchment.

Jon looked surprised, then smiled, getting the message.

The smile still spoke of Jon Snow, the boy who is Bran's big brother.

* * *

Sansa turned this way and that, trying to look at her back in the mirror.

'No, this won't do.' She pulled off the green sash and tied a blue one in place of it. 'No, this doesn't go with my red gown either.' She dumped it on the bed, noticing how Arya-like it was.

Of course, she didn't really _have _to wear this gown, but this was given to her by Jon, and she figured that it would be appropriate for his crowning ceremony as a Dragon Prince. The lords were still arguing on who was to be king/queen, so Jon would have to sit with the title 'Prince' for a while.

'Great, so what should I wear?' Sansa groaned, sinking down onto the bed.

'A belt would do too, Sansa.' Came a voice from nowhere.

Sansa jumped and turned to face Jon, already dressed in a breathtakingly handsome blood-red outfit with rubies sewn on it to form a dragon. Jon smirked at the 'o' Sansa's mouth formed. Picking up a belt from Sansa's closet, Jon said, 'Try this on.'

Sansa would have never thought Jon would be an expert on clothes, but the midnight black of the belt was perfect against the gown. She turned this way and that, and was pleased on finding no flaws.

'Thanks you, my lord.'

Jon laughed. 'Don't get all formal with me yet. You're still my family, Sansa.'

'Yeah, but a cousin.' Sansa tried to explain. 'A royal cousin.'

'But still a cousin, Sansy.'

Her nickname. No one had called her that in years.

'We're going to be late. Let's go.' Sansa said instead.

Jon hooked his arm through hers and led her into the godswood, where the court was already waiting.

'I like this not, Jon Targaryen. Can't we do it in the Sept or the palace?' Queen Daenerys asked. 'The tree makes us uneasy.'

'No.' flat out refusal. Father would have approved.

'All right, let's just get it over then.'

The ceremony was a blur to Sansa. One moment Jon was kneeling in front of the heart tree, the next he was turning around with a circlet with rubies glinting on it on his head.

Jon Snow was now Jon Targaryen.

The lords and ladies formed a line, and Jon walked past them, acknowledging them one by one.

And yet, when he bent to kiss Sansa's hand, the sparkle in his eyes said otherwise.

* * *

He was finally sure.

'I still wish to return to Winterfell, and if they choose me, I will make Winterfell the capital.' Jon told Dany firmly.

Dany smiled. 'You finally found yourself. Go then, Jon Snow.'

And with a light heart, Jon rode off with his family, Dany smiling warmly after them.

* * *

**Okay, I'm not writing from Rickon's POV because I don't have a fix on how his character is supposed to be.**

**Hope you like it.**


	5. Afterlife

_**Afterlife**_

It was all white, pure and bright. Rhaegar blinked slowly, trying to adjust his eyes. Then the light faded, and Rhaegar found himself standing on a bank. There were tents and flags were waving above them. There were many colors, red, grey, blue, and so on.

Rhaegar had been subconsciously walking towards the red tent, and when he came to his senses, he stopped.

_How did I get here? Where is this place?_

Rhaegar could recall vague memories from a few minutes before.

'_You…you raped her! You carried her off and raped her!'_

_The sounds of steel kissing, then more yells._

'_I hate you!'_

_A face full of rage and fury, a war hammer smashing into his chest…_

Rhaegar gasped.

_I am…dead?_

But this wasn't what he expected in the afterlife.

_Lyanna, sweet Lyanna, whatever's happening to her right now?_

He was about to find out very soon.

* * *

The blood was gone, Ned was gone, and what disturbed her most of all was that her son, Rhaegar's son, Jon was gone too.

The rose was still clasped in her hands, giving her comfort as she wandered among the grassy plains, making her way to the tents not far away. The grey one seemed to be beckoning at her.

Then she spotted a familiar figure silhouetted against the red tent, and her breath caught.

Handsome and brooding as ever, Rhaegar was playing his harp, silver hair glinting beautifully under the sun.

'Rhaegar!'

The music ceased abruptly, as Rhaegar looked up in surprise. A tear fell. 'Lyanna, why did you get here so soon? This is the afterlife. Did Robert kill you?'

'I…no. I died for the most beautiful thing ever.'

Rhaegar's brow furrowed. Lyanna then remembered that she hadn't told him about the child. 'Rhaegar, Jon's the most beautiful babe ever! You would have been proud of him! Come, I'll show you.'

Rhaegar took Lyanna's hand, still lost in her rambles. Then they stepped into the mist, and when it cleared, they were present as ghosts in Westeros.

Lyanna turned her head this way and that, finally spotting the little bundle in her brother's arms that she loved so. 'There. Our son. Jon Targaryen.'

'Jon.' Rhaegar repeated. A smile crept across his face. 'I like it.'

Ned was cradling the bundle carefully, as if scared that it might break any moment. 'Jon.' He breathed, looking at the awake but quiet babe. 'Jon Snow.'

* * *

_The boar rushing at him, pain, and he knew no more._

_A bloodied letter, his own hand striving to sign his name on it._

_The milk of the poppy, Dreamwine, death._

Robert was back in his warrior form, which he was thankful for, since he didn't want to spend the afterlife lugging around a big belly that shouldn't have been there in the first place.

Then he heard it.

Sweet, musical laughter, like the tinkling of silver bells.

_Lyanna!_

Robert broke into a run, and then came abruptly to a stop as he saw the scene in front of him.

Lyanna was _hand in hand _with _Rhaegar Targaryen_, laughing at a joke he told her. Rhaegar stopped her laughter by leaning down to…_kiss _her. Kiss _his _Lyanna. And Lyanna never resisted. She returned the kiss passionately.

Robert felt like breaking down. He had told himself many times that Lyanna would have chosen him instead of that rapist, but now he was forced to accept the truth.

'Robert?' The couple finally noticed him, breaking apart immediately.

'Uh, hi, I'm going away right now so I don't strangle _him_.' Robert was always tongue-tied around Lyanna, even now.

Lyanna laughed and tossed her hair. 'You can't strangle him anyway. He's the proud father of the best warrior in Westeros.'

'What?'

'Lyanna, Jon isn't even close yet. He won't get the chance either. He's at the Wall, remember?'

Lyanna didn't seem fazed. 'Skill does not need to be determined by tournaments, love.'

Robert hated it. He hated the way her eyes sparkled when she looked at Rhaegar. He hated the way she called him 'love'. He hated the fact that they even had a son together.

He should have killed that son when he'd got the chance. But where was the boy? Who was the boy?

Just then Rhaegar said, 'Lyanna, time for our visit to our son.'

Lyanna brightened up immediately. 'Let's go!'

Robert trailed after them, mind still trying to process what he had learned in the past few minutes.

Then the mist enveloped the three of them, and they were back in Westeros.

'The Wall?' Robert asked no one in particular. 'Of all the places, the Wall for a son of the Dragon Prince?'

'It is where the son of the Dragon Prince would be the safest.' Lyanna shot back.

Someone called from across the yard. 'Jon, are you going to eat your dinner or not?'

A boy with dark hair and solemn Stark features came out from the stables. 'Coming, Pip, just a moment.'

Pip grumbled a little about stubborn Starks and the cold, and then went inside again.

Jon didn't mind him. Instead, he found a secluded place among the trees with three ghosts walking after him.

'Jon.' Lyanna breathed. 'You've got so tall.'

Jon smiled, as if he heard the words. Then it struck Robert. _Jon _is Lyanna's son. _Jon _was protected from him with the surname _Snow_. _Jon Snow _is Ned's supposed bastard.

Anger rose in him. His lover betrayed him, but his best friend too? Ned would have many questions to answer to when he comes into the afterlife.

Rhaegar was speaking too. 'I know that mayhap you cannot hear me, but I hope you know that your parents never ever left you intentionally.'

Jon tilted his head, running his hand across the bark of the tree which his mother was leaning against. Lyanna smiled happily at the contact, even though his hand went through her body.

'I will always be proud of you, Jon. I love you.'

Jon grinned happily, pure joy in his eyes. 'Thanks, mom. Even if I'm just hearing voices in my head. And dad too.'

Rhaegar smiled. 'I love you too, son.'

'I love you.' Lyanna echoed.

It made Robert feel excluded from the happy family, even though only one of them is alive. Grumbling, he stalked away.

Ned would be in _so much _trouble when Robert gets his hands on him.

* * *

_What would become of Sansa and Arya? I hope Robb won't do anything rash. Bran and Rickon best stay at Winterfell. After all, there must always be a Stark at Winterfell. Jon would be safe at the Wall, since they can't get him there. Catelyn would be under Robb's protection. God, I hope that they would be safe._

Ned worried and worried. He didn't even notice that it was time until the sword glinted in the sunlight and swung down to meet his neck.

And then he was dead.

Ned never expected it to be so simple.

He found himself appearing soaked through in a pond. Nearby was a few tents, and the one at the most behind was beckoning to him. Ned struggled to climb out of the pond, failing miserably since his leg was still in a cast in the afterlife.

'Anyone, help?' Ned called uncertainly.

'Brother dear, how in Westeros did you end up in there?' Lyanna appeared from nowhere, laughing. Rhaegar did not laugh with her, but pulled Ned out from the pond. Robert was scowling behind them. Ned gulped. He must have found out.

'Brother.' Rhaegar acknowledged. Lyanna simply grinned. Robert dragged Ned away, making him stumble a little. Rhaegar and Lyanna looked at each other, and then let them be. After all, violence cannot be used here unless it is for sparring.

'Why,' Robert blazed with fury. 'Why did you hide Jon Targaryen from me?'

'I promised Lyanna that I would keep him safe.' Ned said lamely.

Robert dropped to the ground. 'All this time…I thought she loved me. I thought…'

Ned could only pat him on the back, leaning down awkwardly thanks to that stupid cast.

'Jon can hear them speak. They tell each other "I love you." I feel so alone, Ned. I'm getting excluded.'

'Then what are friends for, then, Your Grace?'

Robert smiled. 'Guess that I'm getting too emotional. A drinking contest?'

Ned groaned while Robert smirked.

* * *

Robb tried to duck, but the arrow moved swiftly. Hitting its mark, the arrow lodged itself there, in Robb's chest.

Breaths were coming harder and harder. Robb supposed that it must have punctured a lung. He coughed, making the pain even worse, and noticed dimly that it was blood. Falling to the ground, Robb could see snatches of his mother being struck by an axe. He would have screamed if he could, going back to be the scared little child he once was.

The blood was stopping him from breathing. The once life-giving blood had turned into a murderer. Robb choked, trying desperately to breath despite the pain. Black spots were already appearing in his vision.

Then his world turned completely black.

Robb found himself spluttering, face dunked in a pond. At least he hadn't appeared _in _the pond.

Pushing himself up, Robb noted his surroundings. The grey tent was calling out to him.

_Creepy. _Robb thought.

_Come to me come to me come to me._

Robb shook his head, trying to get rid of that annoying sound, but couldn't. Then someone crashed into him, squeezing the breath out of him and blocking out the sound completely.

'You look so much like your mother! Ned's been telling us all about you! But how did you get here so soon?'

'Aunt…Aunt Lyanna?' Robb stared at the woman who looked no older than he himself.

'Don't call me that, it makes me seem old.' She said, grinning. Robb found himself thinking of Jon when he saw that grin.

Jon. Robb hoped someone escaped to tell Jon that he has the North now. He definitely did not want the North to fall into the hands of Tyrion Lannister.

'Son.' Father had appeared out of nowhere, and Robb felt like a child again. A child who doesn't have the fate of the North resting on him. A child who could be happy and carefree without a thought of the world.

'Father!' Robb hugged him tightly, not missing the warm smile on Aunt Lyanna's face.

Then the Dragon Prince appeared out of nowhere, smiling at Robb. Robb instantly knew that they were going to be great friends. Then Rhaegar hooked his arm with Aunt Lyanna's.

_What's the meaning of this?_

Father noticed the direction of Robb's gaze and said, 'I would leave them to explain things to you.'

'Why do we have to explain that every single time someone new gets here?' Lyanna asked, irritation clearly showing.

Rhaegar just smiled, and dragged Robb into the mist he hadn't noticed earlier.

Robb couldn't see anything but the swirling mist.

'Don't panic.' Aunt Lyanna said from somewhere behind him. 'We're just showing you some memories that will explain everything.'

_Lyanna was staring at Rhaegar, mesmerized by his singing. It was not long after his singing made her cry, touched by the sorrow of it all. _

_Lyanna was holding hands with Rhaegar almost shyly in the godswood, a priest anointing them in marriage._

_Lyanna was screaming in a bed of blood, and Robb turned away embarrassed when he saw that she was in childbirth._

_Lyanna was dead, and father was holding a baby in his arms._

_Father was riding home to Winterfell, bringing the baby with him._

_Mother's eyes hardened at the sight of the baby and father told her the name: Jon Snow._

Robb was thrown out of the memories with a gasp.

'Jon…Jon…' Robb couldn't find the courage to confirm the conclusion he had just reached.

'Jon Targaryen is the son of your Aunt Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar.' Father summed it all up for Robb.

Robb can't believe it. He simply couldn't. Jon _Targaryen? _The name sounded queer, unfamiliar, and highborn to his ears. Jon Snow sounded more familiar, brotherly, and closer.

'Jon…' Robb looked into the mist, seeing a familiar image of a boy with Stark features grinning and waving at him.

And he decided. '…Snow.'

* * *

Jon couldn't feel anything. Just the pain and the cold.

_Starks are supposed to be immune to the cold. Then again, I'm not a true Stark._

Then he found himself standing in a grassy plain, the wind blowing his black hair so that it whipped around his face. Jon scanned his surroundings, a strange calm feeling enveloping him at the sight of the red tent and the grey tent.

He strolled towards the tents, spotting a pond. He caught sight of his reflection in it.

Ponds might not reflect color very well, but Jon was certain that his reflection had _violet _eyes instead of their actual dark grey. He gasped, reeling backwards only to be caught by a pair of hands. Familiar, warm hands from his childhood.

'Father.'

Ned smiled at Jon. 'So you've found out a part of it. Remember which house had such violet eyes?'

'House Targaryen.' Even dead, Jon still remembered this particular piece of information. Father had stressed it many times when he was young, obviously hoping for Jon to make a connection.

_My eyes always had a little tinge of violet in them! _

Only now did Jon make the connection.

'Son.' Even with no colored pictures, Jon still could recognize his father's sister. But wait, what did she call him?

'Son.' Rhaegar Targaryen approached from behind, making Jon jump. Trying to make sense of it all, Jon's head swiveled towards his 'father'.

'Father, what's going on?'

Ned smiled wryly. 'Long or short explanation?'

'Short.'

'Lyanna married Rhaegar, they had a son, Lyanna died in childbirth, and I promised to look after her son. I took him back to Winterfell and named him Jon Snow. And this is the afterlife.'

Jon simply gaped at him. Then a sudden thought struck him. 'If this is the afterlife, where's Robb?'

'Always looking for his playmate, I see.' Ned grinned, a rare one. His face looked less lined here. 'In that grey tent.'

'Robb!'

Robb was staring sullenly into the fire, and Jon's voice made him jump. Turning, his mouth split into a wide grin.

'Jon!' He sprang up, hugging Jon.

'Robb.' Jon returned, smiling.

'Want to spar?' Robb asked. 'I'd like to see if you'd gotten rusty.'

'Sure. Or is it you that got rusty?'

Robb elbowed Jon, right in the place where the first dagger had been stabbed. Jon sucked in a breath, wondering why it could still hurt in the afterlife. Robb noticed, though.

'Are you okay?' he asked, fingers fumbling at the buttons of Jon's shirt. Jon tried to stop him, but the pain was growing and his hand just dropped away halfway up. 'Oh gods.'

Vision clouding, Jon heard Robb screaming for father, and felt blood dripping down his body. Then the warmth and heat was gone, and the cold returned. The hard floor he was lying on morphed into cold, wet, snow.

Snow.

He was alive.

The pain was slowly diminishing, as if the wound was healing on its own. Jon clawed his way to a nearby wall, where he managed to stand on his wobbly legs. Staggering towards the building, Jon saw Ghost appear.

'Ghost.' He breathed.

He looked at Ghost, and all of a sudden he was looking at himself from Ghost.

_The violet eyes were still there._

'Guess that's not a hallucination after all.' He murmured, letting Ghost be his support as he made his way towards the brothers who betrayed him.

_Somewhere in the vast afterlife, a family was gazing down at Jon Snow with unmistakable pride. _

_And all that remained of Jon Snow in the afterlife was a puddle of blood that strangely won't disappear._

* * *

**And finished! Not my longest yet, but close. Thanks for reading and reviewing! **


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